


oblivion

by traineecorps



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, nice, okay so i rated this general but there's one bad word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3490634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traineecorps/pseuds/traineecorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>this is what it's like to be alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oblivion

You feel so empty and buzzed and alive. You’re hyper-aware and languid and cold and alone but so together.

You feel everything and nothing all at once.

You have a beating heart; there is blood in your veins. Your chest expands and contracts and there’s a buzzing in your ear and everything is so cold and lonely but you are alive. This is existence and it’s beautiful. This is existence.

This is what it’s like to be alive.

And you wonder if anyone else feels like this; if anyone else is standing in front of a convenience store at twilight realizing that living is something tangible. Living is something you can hold in your hands:  a pack of cigarettes or a ten-dollar bill dropped on the empty counter in the convenience store. It’s the dented red bicycle you get around town on; it’s your old sneakers with the identical holes in the toes; it’s the silent wind that sweeps over you and makes you wonder if everyone living is alive. You wonder if anyone feels the same.

You wonder if anyone else feels like they are nothing and everything.

**+**

It’s cold enough that you can see your breath. The suburb is getting ready to sleep after a long day of menial work. Besides the sounds of the crickets underneath the shrubbery, you can catch the occasional canned laugh track float through. It's the result of a window propped open to let the winter air in. Most people have gone home by now, asleep or getting ready to go to bed.

The only place that still left the lights on is a small convenience store at the end of a rundown strip mall. The fluorescent lights dangling from the ceiling inside hum low and dull. Buzzes escape here and there. They flicker on between light and dark. The bulbs don't work well and an odd, bleached out yellow washes over the room. The store is empty. A lone ten dollar bill sits on the counter, compensating for a rack of cigarettes with a missing pack.

The missing pack lies crushed on the sidewalk as its contents provide solace to one of the two people sitting at opposite ends of the street. The boy wears a dark red scarf that smells like the smoke he breathes. It’s a scarf he had made himself when his mother told him that he was finally able to knit by himself. He gave this scarf to a girl once, a girl with dark hair. She gave it back to him with polite complaints of it being too large for her slender frame, so he wore it instead. He has it wrapped around his throat three times. Even on him, the scarf is too big. He wonders how he ever had the patience to knit something so large and he remembers the need to make his mother proud.

And then there’s the girl at the end of the street, huddled up alone. She, too, wants to make someone proud. Whereas the boy has made his mother proud of him many times, the girl still has yet to make her father proud. Just one time: it’s all she wants.

The boy speaks first, asking if the convenience store closes. The girl doesn't look up when she says she doesn't know. Her thin fingers picking at the remains of her wool stockings give away that she's not from here.

He asks her another question.

She doesn’t answer him.

So he asks her a different question: “What’s your name?”

She says it with force, as if saying her name will solidify her. “Annie.” She begins. “Annie Leonhardt.”

She watches him test out it on his tongue, repeating her name as it rolls off in a gentle murmur. She asks him his in turn.

He is eager in his response, jumping at the opportunity. “I’m Eren Jaeger.” Annie mouths his name to herself. It feels so familiar. He’s so familiar.

“Where are you from?” Her voice comes out in a sigh.

Eren gestures to the surrounding neighborhood with a shrug of his shoulders. He’s from here: Pine Valley. This is home.

“What about you?” He prods gently. He watches her bristle and rustle before she mutters out a “the next town over”.

Neither of them speak for a moment. Annie goes back to picking at her threadbare stockings. Then Eren breaks the silence.

“You got a way back home?”

She shakes her head.

“...you want a way back home?”

Annie doesn’t respond.

He tries again. “I have a bike.”

Annie lifts her head and her blonde hair spills over her shoulders. She starts to get up. Her bones take their time, creaking and lurching until they fit again. He offers his hand and she quietly accepts. He takes a good look at her fingers. While his are rough and warm, hers are translucent skin pulled over bone. He brushes the pad of his thumb over her knuckles and she shivers.

“Come on,” He whispers, pulling her forwards to him. “I’m taking you home.” He leads her to narrow back alley, where he left his old dented bicycle.

“So, um, you can either sit on the handlebars, or you can sit on the back of the seat. But, um, I’ll warn you that the last time someone I knew sat on the back of the bike seat, his foot got stuck in the spokes and…”

Eren wraps his fingers around the bike’s handlebars and steers it closer to Annie.

“I’ll take the handlebars.” Annie doesn’t hesitate in her reply. Annie deems that at her stature, her legs are too short to get tangled in the spokes either way.

“Oh,” Eren mumbles, stepping back to let Annie through. She steps around him and sits on the handlebars, smoothing her velvet skirt over her thighs. She wiggles around until she positions herself in the center.

Eren then straddles the seat before resting his feet on the pedals. “Hold on tight.” He grips the handlebars, scooting forward, and his fingers closing over hers.

“Alright, where am I headed?” He asks her, pedaling out of the dark alley. The dim street lamps cast an orange haze all over the sprinklings of snow glazing the sidewalks.

She mumbles out a “the next town over.”

“The one on the other side of the bridge?”

“...Yes.”

“You live near the river?” Eren prods, recalling the little apartment complex lining the banks of the river.

Annie simply nods and Eren pedals faster. They ride through the empty streets. Eren’s bike is old and rickety. It picks up every small bump in the winter-stretched roads. The bike jostles, causing Annie to jump up slightly. She grips the handlebars tighter every time Eren runs over a pothole until her knuckles are whiter than the falling snow.

When they’re turning left onto the bridge, Eren's fingers slip towards Annie's. They brush against each other, but neither flinch away. Once they're on the bridge, Eren builds up the courage to wrap his fingers around Annie's. She's cold, colder than him. It doesn't bother him at first, but then he remembers how far they are from the apartment complex. He worries that Annie might catch a cold from being being out for so long. He thinks about her thin dark sweater and how it does nothing to protect her tiny frame. He thinks about the holes in her socks, the exposed skin, the pink hue in her cheeks. He thinks about her and he thinks he's in love.

Annie speaks up. Her voice is wispy and it blends in with the wind. “I can walk from here.”

Eren shakes his head. “It’s nearly 2 AM, Annie. If you want to walk, I’ll walk with you.” He waits until Annie gives him a simple nod of her head. Her hair is soft as it skims past his cheek. He gently presses on the brakes. Annie’s palm touches his fingers. The bike skids to a stop and Annie slips off the handlebars.

She rolls up the sleeves of her sweater and stretches her arms. As she lifts her arms the hem of her sweater rides up. Eren curls his toes, scraping along the bottom of his sneakers. He relaxes his toes. His pinky toe sticks out of the hole in his left shoe. Annie notices it so she gently bumps the toe of her boot against Eren’s.

Eren looks up and Annie smiles.

“You cold?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Annie murmurs.

Annie watches as Eren steers the small bike to a nearby lamp post. He leans it against the cold metal then runs back to Annie. Eren shrugs out of his jacket. He rests it on Annie’s shoulders. Annie blinks a few times before putting the jacket on. Her silence is all Eren needs as a thank you.

“Come on.” Eren takes Annie’s hand and leads her back to his bike. “Let’s go.” He holds onto her hand a little longer before he grips the handles of his bike. Annie immediately tugs on the hem of Eren’s shirt and clings on.

The two of them walk through the empty streets nearing Annie’s neighborhood. Eren sees a little picket sign for the Pine Valley High School football team. “You go to Pine Valley East?” He asks.

Annie blinks. “Yeah. Most kids from Cedar Hills do.”

Oh. Cedar Hills.   
Cedar Hills was one of those suburbs that popped up everywhere in the 1950s. About 90% of the development was finished when funding was cut from the county and Cedar Hills project ceased to go any further. People moved away when they could and by the late 60s, all that remained of Cedar Hills were a few low-income families and some shops here and there. Pine Valley was also one of those suburbs, but ended up being relatively more successful.

Eren pinches his palm, letting the nail dig in deep. How could he have forgotten that Cedar Hills feeds into Pine Valley?

“It’s okay. I know what you’re thinking, that I’m some class-ditching crack addict or something.” Annie starts. Her voice is low.

“No, I…” Eren stammers out.

“I said it’s okay. And I am, or I was. My ride dumped me on that street corner by the Wawa because I wouldn’t do shit.” Annie is looking at him directly now. “It’s a stupid town filled with stupid people and I want out.”

Eren doesn’t say anything.

Annie doesn’t say anything.

Then, “Maybe I can take you to my town sometime. We could sit on the picnic tables at the beach.”

Annie smirks. The lamp lights glow in her eyes, bringing warmth. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“I mean, I don’t know if I’d call it that.” Eren rushes. He feels the heat rise to his cheeks and he huffs out little puffs of air.

Annie laughs. Her laughter is genuine, not the condescending kind. “It sounds great. Really. I’m free next Saturday.”

Eren grins and Annie touches the toes of her boots to Eren’s sneakers. Annie looks up, seeing a sign with her street name on it. “We’re almost here.”

“Which way am I turning?” Eren picks up his small bike and it trails behind on its back wheel.

“Take a right. My house is the little apartment.” Annie points towards the riverbank.

It’s definitely by the riverbank. The street is wide, curving into a steep little knoll. It rolls into the river, forming the banks. There’s no sidewalk on the riverside, so they go on the salt-worn asphalt. Annie’s house is a lonely apartment, empty and dark.

Eren stops the bike and gestures towards the complex. “Well, this is your stop.”

“Yeah,” Annie exhales. She rubs her arms to keep herself warm.

“So… is 1 good for you?” Eren asks, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt.

“Sure. I’ll be waiting on my steps.” Annie nods.

Eren smiles again before getting on his bike again. He lifts his hand to wave goodbye. Annie waves back.

Eren pedals down the street, turning back onto the bridge leading to Pine Valley. His breath comes out in a cloud as he thinks about the small blonde girl. He wonders if she too, feels alive as he does; if she feels oblivion. The wind whips around him but he doesn’t care that he’s cold. A smile spreads across his face and he shouts into the void.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> lmao okay so i've been working on this piece of shit for over seven months and now it's DONE. this is gonna be a five chaptered fic. oh and i'm going back to betaing so if any of y'all need an editor, hmu.


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